You can save only one
by Thorin LOTR
Summary: A little thing I decided to publish on advice of my friends. A non-canon approach to the 65th Hunger Games. Rated T for violence and thematic elements. All characters belong to their respective creators.
1. Chapter 1: Reapings

**Author's note: Hi there! A disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games Trilogy, credit for that goes to Suzanne Collins. I was partially inspired to write this from the author 24tributes24authors, and specifically work by PhoenixRefrain, so credit to them for helping inspire my to actually publish some of my own. Any resemblances to people past or present is purely coincidental and unintentional. So, without further ado, let the Games begin! And may the odds be ever in your favor!**

* * *

**_You can save only one._**

**_District 12, reaping day._**

I had never planned on this. I never wanted it. But here I was. Stuck in District 12.

My name? Matthew Burtonio. Occupation? Seething at Peacekeepers and that bloody Capitol, and mining coal IF I make it through this Reaping.

"Matt, why are you staring at the wall? Expect breakfast to just jump out?" teased Lucas.

I glared at him.

"No, I was going to go find some breakfast but now that you mention it toasted wall plaster sounds good."

Lucas giggled. It was hard to stay mad at him for long. Just one look at those piercing blue eyes and the wavy brown hair, and it was impossible to stay mad at my 7 year-old brother very long. He sometimes abused this to get his way, but he was a pretty good kid, as far as siblings go.

"You gonna get us breakfast?" he said, poking me.

"Yeah, just a minute." I said. I walked into the kitchen and dug around in the cupboard until I found what I was looking for: A small piece of stale cake that I had gotten as a bargain from the bakery yesterday.

"YIPPEE!" Lucas squealed. I chuckled and set the cake down at the table, then sat Lucas in the chair in front of it.

"Eat up." I order. "Mom should be back from the woods with the rest of the siblings soon."

I take a glance out the window. The gray metallic fence doesn't appear to be on, but you never can tell without listening for the buzz. I spot my mother, brown hair flowing, just crawling under the fence, and the rest of our siblings already tramping towards our cramped house.

"John, Elisa, George, Hankton, Frank, Largo, Bitty, Haroldio, Edward, Edmund, and Uro carrying baby Audrey." I murmur to myself as I mentally count them.  
Yep, I have a ton of siblings. Our dad is working in the mines, but they stop for the 4 hours it takes for the reapings. Damn Capitol, wrecking peoples' lives. I want to crush them all, make them bleed for all the times my innocent family is made to suffer because of their damn grudge.

So many hopes and dreams, just smashed, all because the Capitol likes to punish us for the attacks 65 years ago. Dumb games wreck 23 different teens' and tweens' futures.  
I slam my fist against the wall angrily, leaving a small bruise.

My family is now back. They come stomping in the back door loaded down with fresh vegetables and other foods they scrounged up in the woods outside the fence. Dust billows from the brown burlap sack that George thumps down on the table.

"Beets!" He announces. "I found 'em all!"

"No you didn't!" objects Largo. "I found them, you just helped harvest them!"

"Says you!" retorts George. This starts a tussle between George and Largo that I have to break up before they destroy something in the house.

"C'mon you two, the Reaping is in an hour, and you're all dirty and dusty."

Largo and George simultaneously look down at their mud-spattered gray shirts and faded blue jeans.

"Oh." They both say, and then scamper downstairs to change to their Reaping clothes.

I sigh and start storing the gathered foods into their respective cupboards. Beets on this shelf, roots on this one, and a few mealy apples over here by themselves.

As I plunk the last potato(At least I think it's a potato) onto its shelf, my mom taps me on the shoulder.

"Time to get ready, Matt" she says with a sad smile. I glance at the clock. "_what the heck, 40 minutes gone already?"_ I think to myself.

I race downstairs and throw on an old button up shirt that mom says they used to call a polo shirt. I don't know what polo was, but it had to do with killing 4-legged beast with croquet mallets, I think.  
The polo shirt is red. My favorite color, even though it's the color of blood. Blood. All the Capitol seems to care about, except for their painted faces.

Taking a quick review in the half of a mirror that we own, I survey what I see. A tall, thin boy who's almost a man now, with short blonde hair and a peculiar glint in his pale blue eyes. "Could this guy kill someone in the Games if it came to that?" I wonder aloud. Sighing, I race back upstairs and out the front door after the rest of our family. We arrive at the square a few minutes ahead of time; time enough for mom to find dad and hug him, and time enough for me to find my other friends.

I spot Grant sitting over on a bench next to Melissa, another friend. I wave to them and they return the wave. Grant is short, only about five and a half feet, but he's taller than the petite Melissa.

"Where's Kendal?" I ask Grant.  
"Dunno" he replies.

I give Melissa a one-armed half-hug, and then look around for Kendal. Being tall has its benefits, as I can see over most peoples' heads. I raise my arm and wave to him to come over. He pushes his way through the crowd and manages to reach us.

"Morning Kendal" Melissa teases. "Sleep well?"

Kendal doesn't even react.

"Hey, you try working the midnight shift over the fence." counters Grant.

"Shh, not so loud." Kendal warns. "Peacekeepers" he gestures.

Nodding, I turn my head towards my two friends seated on the bench. "Grant, you volunteering?" I ask.

"Of course. I wouldn't miss it." Grant says in a monotone.

I frown and sit down next to them. Kendal tries to sit down but there's no room with the way we three are sitting.

"Looks like you'll need to get off, Melissa." I chuckle.

"No, you." she says as she shoves me and Grant.

We both tumble to the ground, and get up and dust ourselves off.

"Thanks for wrecking my clothes, now I'm going to die of embarrassment" grumbles Grant.

Noticing the rest of us staring at him, Grant goes "What? It was a joke!"

Shaking our heads, we turn back to the problem of how to get four people on a two-person bench. Kendal suggests a race. "First three there get to sit on it" he smirks. We all agree, and lined up 20 feet from the bench.

"You count." I say to Melissa. She pouts but begins to count. "One, two-"

At "two", Grant, Kendal and I are all off running for the bench seat. We reach it simultaneously, and we all sit down panting and grinning. Melissa stands there with her hands on her hips.  
"Where do I get to sit?" she complains.

"On Grant's lap" I say

"On Matthew's lap" Kendal says.

"On Kendal's lap" Grant says.

We look at each other. "Flip for it?" suggests Grant. We shrug.

"Suits me" I say.

"I'm fine with it." Kendal assents.

"Okay then" says Grant. He pulled out a Capitol coin, shiny copper, and cradles it gently in the grimy and calloused palm of his hand. "You two first, guys"

"Okay" we both assent.

Grant takes a step back. "Okay, call it in the air, Kendal" Grant tossed the coin.

"Justice Building!" shouts Kendal.

Grant caught the coin and slapped it on the back of his hand. He then lifted his hand to reveal that it was indeed the Justice Building. He smirked at me and Kendal.

"Okay, now we toss for it, Matthew." He grinned.

I shrugged as Grant tossed the coin to Kendal. "Here Kendal, you flip it"

I could swear I caught a wink betwixt the two, but I didn't think much of it.

"I'll call it." volunteered Grant.

"Fine by me" I retorted. Let them try their tricks.

Kendal tossed it up in the air. "Justice Building!" Grant called. Slapping the coin to the back of his hand, he then raised his hand to reveal that it indeed was the shiny copper image of the Justice Building.

They both cheered. "Tough luck, Matthew" they jeer.

I shrug as Melissa happily jumps onto my lap. The joke is on them though, as Melissa and I have been secretly dating for almost two years. After this reaping, we planned to make it official since neither of us would be eligible for becoming a Tribute any longer. Then we could plan for a slightly safer future.

"Are you worried about being reaped?" she asked Kendal, Grant and I.

"No" we all responded simultaneously.

She leaned back against me and smiled. "Hope this reaping goes well" she murmured.

We had just changed the subject to which was better out of the choices between apple, maple, or hawthorn pie; when a loud clanging noise sounded in the distance. A large bronze bell, tolling on top of the Justice Building, calls us to the Square for the beginnings of the 64th annual Hunger Games.

"And may the odds be ever in your favor" I mutter, finishing my thought out loud.

"Hmm?" asks Grant.

"Nothin' at all." I reply. "Let's get moving"

On our way into town, a little girl comes running towards us. She doesn't see us because she's looking over her shoulder, and she only realizes we're there when she slams into my legs.

"Whoa there." I say, steadying her. "Careful, Katniss. No sense in knocking yourself out." She looks up with her big brown eyes.  
"Better go find your mother." I say.

She nods, and takes off running.

We arrive at the town square, and we each made our way to our respective sections. I went in the eighteen year old male section. I look around at the boys around me. One of these kids is going into the arena. And there's nothing we can do to stop it.

After a long speech by the new mayor, we wait for the Reaping itself. A Capitol lady walks out onto the stage.

"Greetings District Twelve!" she screeches. I want to cover my ears, but I realize that soon this will all be over, soon Melissa and I will be able to move past the shadow of being reaped ourselves.

"Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in YOUR favor" she says with a huge smile.

I hate her already.

"I'm Prisindia Alenswonter" she beams.

"I am so excited for the 64th Hunger Games, aren't you?" she cheers.

Everyone remains silent.

"Well, let's get to the Reaping shall we?" she says.

Prisindia walks over to the bowls and reaches in. "Changing things up from how that stuffy escort from LAST year did this" she grins. "I believe in equal opportunity, so it's men first today!"

She unfolds the paper.

"And the Male tribute from District 12 is….Kendal Alhenhungah!"

What. The world just dropped out. _"Kendal…we were supposed to make it through this reaping. It was our last!" _I think.

He slowly walks to the stage and turns to face us. I can't read the emotions on his face from this distance, but I'll bet he's scared half-to-death right now.

"Do we have any volunteers for Kendal? Anyone at all?" Prisindia asks.

In a moment, I make up my mind.

"I VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE" I shout. People around me jump and turn to look at my sudden outburst.

"That's the way to do it!" cheers Prisindia. "Come on up here and introduce yourself!"

I walk towards the stage and climb the five weathered wooden steps to the large platform. Funny what you notice when you're walking to your death.

I pass Kendal on the way there, and give his shoulder a light slap as we pass. I see his eyes for a moment; they're filled with confusion. I arrive at the microphone.

"And who is this lovely young man who volunteered today?" Prisindia inquries.

"Matthew Burtonio" I respond. I look out at the crowd. I see sadness and confusion on my family members' faces. They are probably wondering "why did he volunteer? He was safe." I will probably not live long enough to know the answer to that myself.

"Let's hear it for Matthew Burtonio!" she squeals.

To my undying gratitude, the whole district stands sullen and silent. I cheer for them in my head for not giving in to the Capitol by applauding.

Prisindia is puzzled momentarily, but she recovers and walks over to the female tribute bowl.

She pulls out a slip. "Audrey Shrugofkredit" she calls. A girl from the 17 year old female section starts towards the stage. As she climbs the steps, I scan the crowd once more. I catch Kendal's eye, and see what…gratitude? Disappointment?  
I look over to the 18 year old Female section, and notice Melissa is standing an arm's length away from Kendal on the opposite side of the ropes. I keep watching, and spot a strange glint in her eyes. Before I can puzzle over it, Prisindia shouts "Do we have any volunteers for Audrey?"

I look over at the girls' side. Nobody would volunteer. Why would they? Then it hits me a moment too late. Melissa once told me that were I to get reaped, she would volunteer if she were not chosen as well. Before I can catch Kendal's eye and gesture towards her, she shouts "I VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE!"

_Bloody. Heck. Dammit._ A million words rush to my head. My Melissa. Sweet, gentle, mature, innocent, beautiful Melissa. She volunteered. It was bad enough that I was going into the Hunger Games. Now I need to work to get her out of the Arena alive. _Bloody. Heck._

* * *

First Grant and Kendal show up to say goodbye.

As soon as they're in the door, Kendal grabs the front of my shirt and pushes me up against the wall.

"WHY?" he demands. "You were safe!"

"I wanted you to be free." I say simply.

Neither of them says another word. Kendal grabs me in a crushing hug before half-running out the door.  
Grant lingers a moment longer, then grabs my hand and shakes it. He then raced after Kendal.  
Next in was my family. Little Lucas ran at me. "MATT, YOU GOTTA WIN!" he shouted tearfully.

I smiled sadly. "Lucas…I'm not going to be coming back."

"Whyyyyy?!" he wails.

"Because…I volunteered to save a life. And I can save another if I lose."

"Noooo!" he cries. "I want you home with us! Please please please please! Come back home to us."  
I gently lift him up off the floor and hand him to mom. She tearfully repeats the same plea. I hug all of them, and tell them "I can't win. There are 23 other tributes. And if I have my druthers, Melissa is going to be the victor."

"Why, Matt?" asks Edmund(Or is it Edward? It's hard to keep the twins apart)

"Because. I was waiting to announce it until after the reaping, but things didn't go as planned. She and I have been dating. I love her enough that I'd rather die than have her dead."

Everyone in the room bows their head in silence. Just as George clears his throat to speak, a Peacekeeper steps in. "Time's up folks" he says.

I give them all hugs and they file somberly out. I think I'm all done with visitors, but then one more shows up: Audrey Shrugofkredit.

"Please, you've got to not kill Melissa, she gave me another shot at life! I'm just a whiny brat and I really don't do much but she took away her future and gave me another chance at my own. Please, don't kill her." She begs.

I stare at her. "I'm not in it to win it. I'm in it to die. Your goal and my goal are the same. We both want her safety as far as we can ensure it."  
She nods.

"Okay, well. Remember that once you're in there. Please. I'm a useless girl who isn't really worth the time it takes to teach me something, because I'm not smart enough and I have a temper a-" I raise my hand, cutting her off.

"You're special just like she is, and I want you to know that. You promise ME that you'll stop being so hard on yourself. You're not as useless as you make yourself out to be."

She pauses for a moment, then considers. "It's a deal, Matt." she says.  
I'm unprepared for what she does next, which is to rush up to me and hug me tightly. Prying her arms off, I look down at her face.

"Take care, Audrey. And don't give up. Else I'll come haunt you afterwards." I joke.

She lightly punches my shoulder and breezes out of the room. I realize now that I don't have a token to take with me. Doesn't matter, I suppose. I'm not going to win anyways. Although I wish I had one regardless.

The door opens and three peacekeepers in their white uniforms arrive to escort me to the train station.  
I regard them with pity almost, as I can see two of them are ill-at-ease with their task.

"If it makes it easier, I can cartwheel to the station" I joke.  
They chuckle. "Nah, don't want to damage you." one remarks.

We walk to the station, and we reach the high-speed rail to the Capitol.

"Have a great ride, sonny" one says. "And." he says, leaning in closer "I'll be betting on you. You can win."

"Thanks sir, but I won't win. I'd bet on someone else." I say, and then step towards the train.

I'm off to the Hunger Games, something I never was supposed to be a part in. Life ain't perfect I guess.  
The train doors slam behind me. There's no turning back.

* * *

**_End note: Hope you enjoyed my little pet hobby. Reviews and critiques are welcome. Any suggestions for further development are welcome, as the story isn't planned out! Just improv. :D_**


	2. Chapter 2: Train Ride

**Author's note: Hiya folks. I noticed the discrepancies between the districts in the last chapter, and yes, it is supposed to be 12. If you see otherwise, just let me know. ;) On to the train ride, and our first meeting with Haymitch!**

**Train ride to the Capitol**

Some people say that when you're scared, your knees knock, your hands get sweaty, and your head gets dizzier and dizzier until you can hardly even stand up. None of that was true, at least for me. I was scared to death, sure, but I wasn't impaired by it. I had come to grips with the reality of dying a long time ago. Just now it was getting ever closer to that moment.

I am given almost no time to orient myself when Prisindia rushes up to me. "Come meet your mentor, Haymitch Abersinth!" she squeals. "He won the Quarter Quell, so he's super-duper scrumdiddlyumptiously great!"

She giggles and turns to glide back down the hall. I resist the urge to bean her with this expensive-looking vase sitting on a table. Pity. The gold roses would have gone excellent with her new hair color. Better luck next time, I guess.

I sigh and follow her down the hallway. Haymitch isn't too bad if you respect him. Which is kinda hard, considering he's dead-drunk most of the time. I reach the doorway and walk into the lounge car to see Haymitch sitting at a table, drinking liquor straight out of the bottle.  
"Haymitch, can't you think of anything but that whiskey?" screeches Prisindia.

"No sweetheart, I don't think at all, is my strategy." snarks Haymitch He takes another swig and wipes his mouth with his shirtsleeve. _"Sure hope this meal ain't a candlelight dinner" _I think to myself. _"He's a walking fire hazard." _

"Oh I'm so glad you're here Matt" says Prisindia. "I'm _trying _to get Haymitch here ready for the candlelight dinner tonight!" _"Aww dammit. Murphy's law I guess" _I think to myself.

"Where's Melissa?" I ask aloud.

"Oh, she's still in her room, said she wasn't very hungry. Let's get going shall we? Our tributes need food after all!" she cheerfully says.

"Oh." I say, and then walk out of the car in the direction of the dining room.

* * *

Later that evening, we are seated at a long table with a white tablecloth with gold inlay on top of it. I look to my left and see Haymitch drinking some blueish liquor. Prisindia had finished long ago and was off doing who-knows-what. As soon as she had left the room I had quickly yet carefully removed all the ornate silver candlesticks to the end farthest from Haymitch. He didn't seem to care though.

"Haymitch" I say.

"Blurgb?" he says around a throat-full of alcohol.

"Do you have any advice for in the arena?" I ask.

"Same thing I always tell the tributes kiddo. Stay alive."  
He then laughs raucously and takes another drink from his bottle.

I sigh and pick up another one of those oh-so-fluffy golden brown dinner rolls, and am about to eat it when I decide to throw it at Haymitch instead. Doing so proved interesting, as I didn't know a drunk that could throw a knife that quickly and accurately before. I wouldn't have known one then because I would have been dead, except that the candlesticks I had carefully removed from Haymitch's vicinity were sitting in the way of the knife. It ricocheted off with a loud *CLINK*. Catching the teetering decoration, I look back towards Haymitch.

"S'matter old man? Can't aim tonight?" I smirk.

In three quick strides he is over in front of me, and in another half second has me pinned up against the wall by my shirt.

"Listen here punk. I have my reasons. When you can do better, you'll be here mentoring instead of me. And that's my ultimate goal: to have one of you here with me. So you better damn listen to my advice or we'll see how well you do with no sponsers." He sets me down and goes back to drinking.

"Good, sir." I say. "That's my plan anyways. I do not plan to be here with you. I'm going to die, so I want you to try everything in your power to get Melissa to win."

There's an audible *WOOSH* as Haymitch spits out the liquor in his mouth, and sits up straight as the candles ignite the flammable liquid.

"What!" he shouts "Not win!? What are you saying? Everyone wants to win!" he splutters.

"Not me" I respond calmly. "I know only one of us can win. And I want it to be Melissa."

Haymitch sits down again, rubbing his stubbled chin with his scarred left hand.

"You know kid, I like that. I like it a lot." He murmurs.

"But how are you going to do it?" he counters.

"Umm" I stall.

"Ah-hah. I thought so. Noble Matt wants to save a girl but doesn't have a plan for carrying that out. Great thinking, brainiac." he leers. "You'd think she was your girlfriend or something. Now THAT I could work with. I've thought for many years on what I'd do if I could create drama like that…"

"Funny you should mention that." I say. "Because she IS my girlfriend. Couldn't ask for a better one. We were just waiting until these final reapings to be over before announcing…"

Haymitch looks stunned. Good. Let him chew on that for a bit.

"How did you win?" I ask Haymitch in order to distract him.

He waves his hand in a dismissing gesture. "That's not important right now, what is important is how we can work this to our advantage." He starts to pace up and down the aisle.

"While you think on that, I think I'll go back to the lounge car and get some rest." I say before I saunter off.

When I arrive there, I find it unoccupied. So I sit down on a large red sofa and try to rest. Before I know it, I've gone and fallen asleep. I snooze until I am awakened by the sound of the oak-paneled door starting to open.

**Haymitch's point of view: Train ride**

I must have gotten on the train drunk, because I come to my senses with a terrible headache and a big hangover. I'm trying to collect my thoughts when I realize that I'm back on the Tribute train again. Great. Another freaking horror show for the next month where I once again lose both tributes right off and then have to lose myself in a bottle before I go insane like that one kid did back in the 24th Games.

I rub my eyes. "OH GOD THAT BURNS!" I shout. Having raw alcohol on your hands doesn't do your eyes any favors. I stumble to the sink in the restroom, and run my head under the water until the burning sensation subsides. As the pain subsides in my eyes, I notice my pounding headache decreasing, and I feel less hungover than before. I remember now. There were two crazy volunteers this year. That one kid scares me. He's so tall, and seems like he knows what he's doing. Wonder if we have a shot at getting one of 12's tributes to the final eight this year. Oh well, time to find another drink.

I peer into the cupboard and find a bottle of…something. It smells of liquor so I uncap and start chugging. It's not too bad, but the blue color is a bit unnerving. Would severely suck if this were what the Capitolites call 'anti-freeze', now wouldn't it? Gonna risk it anyways.

I take another swig and walk out the door to the lounge to await the two new tributes. I bump into Prisindia. Oh god she looks ugly with that hairstyle. What is it supposed to even be? A vampire bat?  
I walk over to my usual seat and collapse into it. Taking another pull at the bottle, I lean back to make sure to get a full mouthful. This stuff really tastes bad. I'll bet that it's not all alcohol. Yegh.

Prisindia screeches at me "Haymitch can't you think of anything but that whiskey?"

I smirk back. "No sweetheart, I don't think at all, is my strategy."

I notice one of the tributes has arrived. So has Prisindia, apparently, because she greets him.

"Oh I'm so glad you're here Matt" says Prisindia. "I'm trying to get Haymitch here ready for the candlelight dinner tonight!" '_Dumb dinner' I think to myself._

"Where's Melissa?" Matt asks.

"Oh, she's still in her room, said she wasn't very hungry. Let's get going shall we? Our tributes need food after all!" she cheerfully says.

"Oh." Matt says, then turns and walks away.

"Well done sweetheart" I sneer at Prisindia.

"You don't have to be rude just because you're drunk, Haymitch" she retorts before flouncing off.

_Good riddance, she was getting on my nerves something awful.  
_I take another drink from my bottle to help calm them.

* * *

Dinner is a quiet affair, except for that damn escort jabbering about unimportant gossip from the Capitol. But as soon as she left, I note Matt moving all the candlesticks away from my end of the table. Good. I hate those things anyways. To hell with such finery and foppery.

Suddenly Matt breaks the silence.

"Haymitch" he says.

"Blurgb?" I try to respond around a mouthful of better alcohol.

"Do you have any advice for in the arena?" he asks.

"Same thing I always tell the tributes kiddo. Stay alive." I laugh and then take another drink from my fresh bottle.

I hardly noticed when he picked up a dinner roll, but I DID notice in another second when it became lodged in my eye. Reacting, I slap my hand on the handle of a knife and then throw it at the brat. It glances off one of the candlesticks. Phew. Snow would have had my head for that.

"S'matter old man? Can't aim tonight?" the kid smirks.

I leap up from my chair and with several quick steps reach him and slam his back against the wall.

"Listen here punk. I have my reasons. When you can do better, you'll be here mentoring instead of me. And that's my ultimate goal: to have one of you here with me. So you better damn listen to my advice or we'll see how well you do with no sponsers." I sit back down and have another swig of the liquor.

"Good, sir." the kid says. "That's my plan anyways. I do not plan to be here with you. I'm going to die, so I want you to try everything in your power to get Melissa to win."

I spit out my mouthful of alcohol all over the remaining candles. I barely even notice the fireball that erupts.

"What!" I scream "Not win!? What are you saying? Everyone wants to win!" Isplutter.

"Not me" He responds calmly. "I know only one of us can win. And I want it to be Melissa."

Damn. I like this kid. Refreshing compared to the selfish brats who are all going "Poor me, in the Hunger Games!"

I sit back down.

"You know kid, I like that. I like that a lot." I rub my chin with my hand. This kid is a nice change. Going to suck terribly that I'm not going to have a shot at bringing him home, but still, gotta admire someone who does that.

"But how are you going to do it?" I counter.

"Umm" he stalls.

"Ah-hah. I thought so. Noble Matt wants to save a girl but doesn't have a plan for carrying that out. Great thinking, brainiac." I leer. "You'd think she was your girlfriend or something. Now THAT I could work with. I've thought for many years on what I'd do if I could create drama like that…"

"Funny you should mention that." he says. "Because she IS my girlfriend. Couldn't ask for a better one. We were just waiting until these final reapings to be over before announcing…"

What. Mind is blown right now. Can't process. Melting. Need hard liquor.

"How did you win?" he asks.

I wave my hand dismissively. "That's not important right now, what is important is how we can work this to our advantage." I start to pace up and down the aisle, mulling my new options.

"While you think on that, I think I'll go back to the lounge car and get some rest." he says, then walks out the door.

I've got an ace in the hole now. Let any other district try to top District 12 this year! I immediately go to Melissa's room and knock.

"Who is it?" she asks.

"Me, sweetheart." I say.

"Oh, you, Haymitch." she says as she opens the door. "Whatcha doin'?"

"Looking for you." I reply.

"I'm flattered, but if I might remind you I am going to die in a few days so Matt can win." Damn. This chick too.

"Why?" I ask her.

"Because." She says, stepping out her door. "I love him and want to do anything to make him win."

"I think you'll have to talk to him about that, sweetheart. He has other ideas. Like dying for you."

She rolls her eyes. "Typical" she chuckles. "Where is he now?" she asks.

"I don't know, sweetheart. Last I saw him he was going to try rest."

"Okay, thanks." She says. Suddenly she gives me a hug. Her head only reaches my chest, because she's so short.

"What was that for, sweetheart?" I tease.

"For warning me of what Matt was planning to do." she giggles.

"Oh, and Haymitch." She calls over her shoulder.

"Yes?" I respond.

"Take a bath and change your clothes. You smell worse than Greasy Sae's brewery in summer." She winks, and takes off down the main corridor.

I sniff myself and think _I like it. Reminds me of home._

I decide not to change the at all. As I walk back to the dining room, I brush against a lit flame from a candle.

"AIIIIEEEEEEEE!" I screech as flames engulf me. Fortunately sprinklers go off and I am left smoking, but unhurt. Maybe changing clothes once in a while wouldn't be such a bad idea.

**Melissa's PoV, train ride.**

After I left Haymitch I ran to the dining room. Aside from a light haze of smoke, the room was clear of anything else. I grab something to eat and skip down the main aisle towards the reading room.

_"I wonder why Matt was planning on doing that. He might be planning the same thing as me. No matter, I'll fool him!" _ I laugh lightly to myself when I think of the shock on his face when he wins. I couldn't bear to go without him, so I will gladly die so that he has another chance at a relationship, except he can have anyone he wants because he will be a Victor!  
I grin at the thought, but hatred clouds my vision when I think of another girl getting to snuggle with him, banter with him, talk to him, sympathize with him, and do fun things together. I slow my steps. Maybe, just maybe, I want to win after all.

I mull over this new possibility. Could I give up on blonde, blue-eyed Matt so that he could live and have another life after the games? And dying. I think that would hurt. I shudder. Best not to think about that. I wish there was some way for us to both win. Somehow…

I stop thinking about all of that for a minute. First I want to see **my** Matthew. I smile at the thought. "_Mine._" I like that. I think I'll try to keep him mine for as long as they will let me. With this mixture of happiness and sadness, I slowly leave the reading room and walk down the corridors some more.

I come to the lounge. The door is closed and I almost pass by. But something stops me, something…I don't know. But I feel as if I should go in. I look at the doorknob. A gilded bronze mushroom. Kind of odd for such an imposing oak-paneled door, but whatever floats their Capitol boat. It's a wonder they don't dye us all radical colors for the Games. I turn the knob and look in as I open the door. I see Matt on a red sofa, with his eyes just starting to open because of the noise the door made.

I smile once more at that picture. Such pretty eyes. _MY _eyes. He's mine. And I will fight for him until I die, even if it means giving him up to someone else.

**End note: Wow. Almost another 3000 words. It's really getting up there for something that I just do as a little calm-me-down when I'm upset. I have something planned for the next chapter. Special thanks to Kloud and Sparkly(Two friends) who helped with ideas for this chapter.**

**(And yes I know, I goofed up badly with the District numbers in the first chapter. Never fear, I shall chase the nasty incongruities away!)**


	3. Chapter 3: Reapings, and Arrival

**Oi vey! Such mistakes in the first chapter. I need to proofread more carefully. x)  
So we're halfway through the trainride. Now comes the part where we get a glimpse at the other tributes. Why? Why, the reruns of the reapings of course! So without any further hoopla, let's get back to stalking Haymitch and our two tributes.**

**Also, sorry about the lapse of time between these chapters. Real life issues got in the way. But it's here now!**

**Reapings recap, Matt's PoV.**

I open my eyes all the way. Before I can blink, there is a blur of motion and something hits me in the chest which causes me to lose my breath with a muffled *OOMPH* as the wind is knocked out of me. I look down into the shining hazel eyes of Melissa.

"Hey" I say.

"Hi sweetie." she smiles. "I was looking for you."

"Looks like you found me. Why were you looking for me?" I say while I stroke her shoulder-length brown hair.

"To hug you" she giggles, then wraps her arms around me tightly.

I smile. "Trying to break some ribs before the Arena? That desperate to cut down on the competition eh?" I tease.

She looks hurt at this remark. I immediately apologize.

"Sorry." I say quickly. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings." I finish quietly.

"I know." she says, pinching my cheek. "But we do have to go watch the reapings from the other Districts now, remember?" she grins.

I hug her back. "Yes, I remember. Shall we go, or would you rather sit here for a while?" I joke.

"Sit here." she retorts. "But Prisindia and Haymitch would probably throw a temper tantrum apiece if we didn't show up."

I chuckle. "Yeah, they would at that." I respond.

I begin to stand up but she puts her arms around my neck.

"Again? I thought you said you weren't trying to cut down on the competition, and here you are trying to strangle me." I tease.

She pouts. "I wanted you to carry me there."

"Fine." I grin. Carrying her isn't that hard. _ "Strange that in a couple weeks nothing will be difficult for me, because I'll be dead."_ I think.

I walk out the door and down the main corridor. We reach the room with the television(why is it called that? Ancients thought it was black magic, I'm told. Hence the tele part, as in telepathic.)

Reaching the gold –inlaid glass door, I knock on the bottom of the frame with the toe of my scuffed workboot.

"Knock knock!" I call. Haymitch answers the door.

He stares a moment at the spectacle before him, and then shrugs and mutters something that sounds like "toldher*mumble*something something win the games that way-good"

He sputters a bit more, and then says "Don't keep Prisindia and I waiting! Let's get a move on."

I shrug and step inside. Prisindia is seated in a large leather armchair with what must be three hundred pounds of stuffing from the bloated size of the neon green leather. Disgusting. Can't the Capitol come up with fashionable stuff that's sensible? Good gracious what a disgusting color.

I deposit Melissa on a normal-looking armchair, and then seat myself in the one next to it. They are both brown fabric with a normal amount of stuffing.

_"Otherwise they'd look like potatoes" I think to myself._

Melissa put on a pouting face. She was obviously displeased with this arrangement.

Haymitch noticed too. "What's the matter sweetheart? I think it would be better for you to sit with your boyfriend, don't you?" he says with an evil-looking grin. Or maybe it was just his yellowish teeth. I make a mental note to tell him of that after we watch the recaps.

She smiled happily and hopped back onto my lap.

"…thanks sweetheart. Getting the breath knocked out of me once just wasn't enough for today" I quip.

She simply smiles and settles in for the recaps. I look over at Prisindia who is busily flipping switches and turning knobs on the television, trying to get it to play the recorded recaps.

I glance over to Haymitch. He's rolling his eyes and shaking his head in a "Awh no not again" kind of shake. He strides over and says "Allow me."

"Well, if you're sure…" begins Prisindia

"I'm sure, thanks" Haymitch says as he pushes past her to the front of the television. He reaches around to the side and flips the switch marked **ON.**

As the screen flickers to life, Prisindia is awestruck.

"You're amazing!" she squeals. "I could never get it fixed no matter how much I tried. Is there some kind of secret to it, honeypumpkin?"

Haymitch grimaces. "No, not much, just a little know-how. And please, I am NOT a honeypumpkin."

"Of course snookums" Prisindia replies.

Haymitch rolls his eyes once more.

"Let's just watch the reapings, please?" he says.

"Aw, okay." goes Prisindia.

We all settle further into our seats as the opening sequence begins with a cursory introduction featuring President Snow. Who'd think such a nice looking man could be so evil?

"District One Reapings" said the caption.

Suddenly the screen shifted to the town square in District One. There was a veritable sea of people.

We see the ridiculous Capitol outfit on the equally ridiculous Capitol escort who is going to be drawing the names. Bright pink. I mean BRIGHT pink, as in you'd-better-close-your-eyes-or-get-permanent-eye-damage kind of bright. He walks over to the bowls.

"Ladies first!" he says. "Our female tribute this year is….ALINGA BROWNSINGTON!" he cheers.

"Come on up here Alinga" he says. "Do we have any volunte-"

Probably a hundred voices yell "I volunteer!" at the same time, and set off a mad scramble for the stage which is won out by a girl who looks to be 17, with short black hair and a bounce in her step.

"And your name is…" goes the escort.

"Lucia Alnbyen" she replies.

"Let's hear it for Lucia!" cheers the escort.

There's a loud burst of applause and a few boos from the teen girls section.

"And now on to the male tribute!" he shouts.

He fishes around in the bowl for a moment. "Do I have a Lionel Drumbsed here?"

A boy who's only twelve walks up onto the stage.

"Do I have any-" the escort is once again interrupted by the sounds of "I volunteer!" coming from all over the boys section.

A large boy who is overly muscular forces his way up onto the stage.

"And your name…" prompts the escort.

"Delvin Derumbling" he smirks.

"Let's hear it for Delvin and Lucia!" cheers the escort.

A loud cheer erupts throughout the square.

The commentator notes that nobody has been reaped into the games in this district since the first Games.

"It also applies to this one" the voice says.

The next shot is of District Two.

It skips the reaping portion and focusses on the volunteering.

"I volunteer!" shouts a girl who can't be more than 14. Her name, we find out, is Jingle Mekrer.

The male volunteer is an 18 year old boy called Spartan Eldo.

The scene moves on to District Three. Technology.

Here the tributes are reaped, with no volunteers. The girl is 16, and her name is Sarhina Cotings.

The boy is only 12, and his name is Elding Jumpenz.

The announcer gloats that District Four has the second-most victors aside from District Two.

When the dust finally settles on the volunteering portion, the female tribute is Germina Opring, and the male tribute is Franklin Odair. Melissa shudders when they show Franklin on stage. He's monstrous, and not at all pleasant to see.

They quickly brush past the remaining Districts, barely noting the names of the tributes from Districts 5-10, (Delilah Eldringo and Edgar Wipplish from 5, Selina Founker and Charton Hobes from 6, Berilu Devokans and Justin Ime from 7, Aubring Adroited and Sherman Dreken from 8, Krissy Ferdel and Swen Quizito from 9, and Briana Yuski and Cort Nedroly from 10)

They give District 11 more screen time because this year some identical twins were reaped. The girl is short, not very intimidating, but her twin brother is massive, and must be about 7 feet tall.  
Their names are Elie and Shun Wederson, and they are both 18.

District 12 gets a more-than-average amount of coverage because of the two volunteers. I see Kendal's face with suppressed fear; I see my own face, looking pale and worried as I volunteer for him in his place. I see Audrey being reaped, and Melissa getting her big plan to volunteer instead.

At this moment Melissa half-turns and hugs me. "I love you." She says with a smile.

I smile back. "I love you too. But dammit what a dumb thing to do!"

She just smiles blissfully and we turn back to watch the ending sequence.

"Well" says Haymitch "Does anyone stick out to you?"

I clear my throat. "Well, that guy from District 11 looked intimidating."

"Mhm." assents Haymitch. "Anyone else?"

"Delvin. From District 1" shudders Melissa.

"And Franklin from 4" I add.

"Yep. So do you know what comes next?" Haymitch queries.

"I have a rough idea…" I respond.

"Yep. Training." Haymitch says with a smirk. "And boy, do you two need it."

"Hey! I'm not THAT out of shape." I protest.

"Never said you were, sonny. But how much combat have you actually experienced? A fistfight or two?" he counters.

"Good point" I reply. "So what should we do?"

"Do something you aren't naturally good at. If you're good with knives, save it for the private sessions with the Gamemakers. Don't tip your hand before the games even start. Learn something new; make yourself more versatile." He finishes.

"Any particular strengths you might have, you two?" Haymitch inquires.

We look at each other. "Umm, not…really." We both admit at the same time.

"Well, Matt is pretty strong" ventures Melissa.

I shrug "Not abnormally so. I'm actually just average at everything. Guess that could be my weakness and strength all rolled into one: I'm good at almost everything, but great at nothing."

"That could go for me too" Melissa chimes in.

"Okay." says Haymitch. "So some average tributes, eh? How are we going to make this work? Simple. Play on the audiences' emotions."

"Isn't that how it always works?" I joke.

"Well, yes" Haymitch admits. "But in this case we want a love story of sorts, to play on those emotions rather than say, excitement or bloodlust"

"True" I assent. "So we go with that for now? You ARE aware that only one of us gets out alive, right?"

Haymitch scratches the back of his neck with his roughened right hand. "Right." He says. "I am aware of it, sure. But this gives you both a shot at it, albeit a long one, but still a better chance than nothing."

I scratch my chin. "Hmm, okay. We'll give it a whirl. Sound good, Melissa?"

She nods.

"Good." Says Haymitch. "Now , once we get there, remember: Work on a weakness, save your skills for the Gamemakers."

We both nod in confirmation.

"We're at the capitooooolllll!" squeals Prisindia as she practically skips into the compartment.

I roll my eyes. Capitol accents. They're annoying, as in, VERY annoying. Excuse me while I go grab this

ornamental wall decoration that looks like a mutated cat and ram it down her throat. Oh wait, I'm

getting away from her now, aren't I? Well, guess that's a plus of arriving.

A loud grating noise precedes the large doors opening in the side of the car, and we are rushed out in a mob of peacekeepers. Oh bloody heck, what have I gotten myself into.

* * *

**And that's that! Next chapter might be from back home in District 12, from Kendal's PoV. Depends on what flows best.**


	4. Chapter 4: Back home

**Chapter 4: Back home.**

**Author's note: Hi again my five readers! We're back with Chapter 4! We are taking a trip back to District 12 to see a few things from some new perspectives. And here's this chapter folks! Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it. I plan to develop more of these back-home views, since so few actually do it. Nothing wrong with focusing on the games, but haven't you ever wondered what they're doing back home? :(**

** Got some more input from some more proofreaders, so there's a new character entering the scene: Harry Stul O'Pardi. Without any more delay, let's peep in on Kendal and our new friend, Harry.**

**District 12: Kendal's PoV**

* * *

_Oh god. What have I done? I've let my best friend take my place in the Hunger Games, and then one of my other friends went and volunteered as well! Oh god oh god why…Oh-_ A hand pats my cheek. I turn my tear streaked face to see little Katniss standing next to me.

"Please don't cry Kendoll" she whimpers.

I try to smile at her. "Of course not, Katniss. I won't cry now. Why would I be crying?"

"Because Matt went to the train ride instead of you." she states.

I drop my head into my hands. Great. I'm crying again.

Katniss pats my back. "Come on Kendoll, let's go play."

I shake my head and mutter "Not now please, Katniss."

"But whyyy?" she cries.

"Because-" I start, then take my head out of my hands to look as Katniss is picked up by someone.

He smiles at her. "Katniss, why are you bugging Kendal?" he teases.

"Because he was crying and I wanna make him feel better!" she wails.

"I think you should leave him be for now, he needs to think" smiles the boy.

"Okay." shrugs Katniss. The boy sets her down and she says "Are you coming over again to see us tonight, Harry?"

"Wouldn't miss seeing you and your family once more, sweetheart." He assures her.

Katniss giggles and races up the street towards her house. The boy makes no motion of leaving, and instead sits beside me.

"Do you mind?" I ask fiercely.

He shrugs. "Thought you might need someone to listen to you. I'm Harry. Harry Stul O'Pari"

He puts a hand on my shoulder. A strong, comforting hand. I wait for him to make the first move.

"So." he begins "Why so sad? Best friend die?"

"Close" I reply. "Well, he will soon. I know him, he won't win if he can help it."

"What?" Harry says. "I don't understand."

"Matt's going in the Hunger Games instead of me. It was our last year eligible for the reapings, and it wasn't supposed to be either of us. This isn't how we planned. Nothing went right. And then Melissa volunteered for some girl named Audrey. Another one of my friends gone off to die. My only hope with her is that Matthew manages to ensure her win with some miracle."

"Ouch." Harry sighs.

"Well," he says. "Look at it from Matt's point of view. He wanted you to move on, to live a good life, not mope and mourn that it wasn't you going into the games to die."

"I suppose so." I grudgingly agree.

"He went into those games to save you" Harry continues. "He meant to save you. And now he's going to die. And for what? Why will he die?"

Without waiting for an answer, he finishes. "He's not coming out of those games alive, because in there he can save only one. And knowing Matthew, he won't choose himself."

"Uh, yeah" interrupts another voice. I turn to see Audrey Shrugofkredit, the girl originally reaped.

"I…kinda begged him to try and get Melissa out, since she saved my life and future by volunteering. It seems selfish, but he said that was already his plan, and that he promised to do everything in his power to get her out alive."

As she finished this confession, she burst into tears and sits down beside Harry and I.

"I don't want either of them to die." she sobs.

"Me neither." I console her.

"This stupid &*^$ Capitol and their damn games wrecking our lives!" she wails.

Harry scoots over next to her. "Hey, hey" he says. "No need to cry. Things will work out, we'll be sad, but in the end, they gave you two a chance at life. Who knows? Maybe someone will take down the Capitol and we'll all be free!"

He grins, but it fades as neither of us respond. To break the silence, I chuckle.

"And Katniss can be the leader!" I joke.

Everyone laughs, and the tension dissipates.

"Let's go." says Harry. "I'm going over to visit Katniss and her family again tonight. I'll see if you two can come visit as well!"

I smile. "And Audrey can tell Katniss that she's is now the new revolt leader! Katniss Everdeen, leader of the districts in their conquering of the nasty face-painting Capitol!"

Audrey giggles. "Let's go." she says. "I'll bet Katniss will get a kick out of it!"

* * *

When we arrive at Katniss' house, we notice someone else has gotten there before us: Grant.

"Hey, Grant" I say.

He looks up, surprised.

"Hi Kendal." He replies. "Who's your friend?"

"His name is Harry!" pipes up Katniss. "He's one of our best friends!"

"Oooh. Okay." chuckles Grant.

He elbows me as I sit down, and whispers "He's pretty short, you know?"

I take another look, and notice that Harry is indeed fairly short. His shock of brown hair does not quite lay flat, and his blue eyes look even darker blue against his pale skin.

He's a bit underweight, but that describes practically all of District 12. I can't help but notice the same air of…confidence…that Matthew exhibited. This kid will go far.

_"Might* go far"_. I mentally correct, as Harry tries to sit down in his chair, and manages to knock over a decorative pot of flowers while simultaneously upsetting little Katniss' chair into the coat rack.

He blushes and tips Katniss' chair back upright and helps her into it. "Sorry Kat" he mumbles, red-faced.

He plunks himself down in his rough-hewn wooden chair. Sturdy, but crude. Doesn't matter I guess, 'cause right now the last thing we care about is what the furniture looks like.

"Shh!" whispers Katniss' mother. "The reapings are starting and the peacekeepers will be checking on us soon."

We all nod and sit quietly as the television turns itself on, and the deep voice of Claudius Templesmith rolls out of the diminutive speakers on the set.

"And now" he intones "it is time for the reapings for our 65th Annual Hunger Games! Let's get to the recaps, shall we?"

Suddenly, the screen cuts to the square in District One. There, a girl is reaped and volunteered for practically all in the same breath. The same thing follows with the male tribute.

I roll my eyes at how bloodthirsty those kids look. It's sickening, the animals they've turned into because of these glorified punishments inflicted upon us by the Capitol. Bet they're hoping to bring a year's worth of gifts and bounty to District One. Sad that it won't happen this year, not if what I hope happens transpires.

We watch reaping after reaping, the names and faces becoming a blur as they always do at this part of the games. But when we reach District Twelve, I sit up in my chair and lean forward a bit, resting my chin in my hand with my elbow sitting on my knee. I wonder what they're going to say about their tributes THIS year.

"Such a historical event has never happened here before, folks!" booms Claudius. "Just imagine, TWO tributes volunteering from District Twelve, not known for its fighting prowess. I think tomorrow we'll have some interviews with the reaped tributes, to hear their thoughts! Isn't that exciting folks?"

I grit my teeth. Great. The last thing I want to do right now is talk to some moronic Capitolites about my feelings of being saved from certain death by one of my best friends. I glance over at Audrey, and from the look on her face it is plain that she is dreading it as well.

Harry has his face set in a tight-lipped scowl. Wonder what he's thinking.

Harry breaks the silence once the television turns off.

"Ah. Well. They can't interview you if nobody knows where you are, right?" he grins.

"Listen." Harry says. "I have an idea"

* * *

**That be the end of this chapter, people. If you have any ideas on what should happen to these characters, send them my way! I'm hoping to develop them a LOT. :D**


	5. Chapter 5: Through thick and thin?

**Update time! Long hiatus, but we're all hunky-dory now. Well, not really but sort-of. Kind of. Alright, enough babbling. On to our next chapter.**

**Chapter 5: Through thick and thin?**

"This is NOT what I had in mind!" I huff to Harry.

"What?" Harry says, trying to look innocent "You're the one who didn't want to talk to the interviewers"

"Yeah, but I also didn't know you were going to solve it by locking us in the basement of your house" I sneer.

Harry sighs. "Ken, it's been two days, and no one has found you. Why can't you just be grateful?"

"I AM grateful. It's just…how come I have to be in your dirty basement?!" I shout.

Harry blinks, and then places his finger in front of his lips.

"Shh, don't shout. Nobody knows about this secret room beneath our house except my family. And you, now." He shrugs.

"Yeah, but-"

"But nothing." He finishes. "If you really want to talk to the reporters, feel free to come on up and have a chat. Although you might want to take a bath first…"

I scowl at him. "You try being locked in some dingy basement for almost three days and see how you look!"

Harry chuckles. "I might, when I have a week to spend afterwards bathing."

"Hey!" I yell at him, and try to whack his arm.

He dodges, smirks, and clambers up the ladder to the trapdoor in the fireplace.

I shake my head.

_I wonder what's been going on? They should be into the second day of training by now…"_

* * *

**_In the meantime, a lot has been going on. Let's check in on our tributes, shall we?_**

I figured that if Prisindia keeps on squeaking in that stupid Capitol accent, she'll go mute pretty soon.

"And that would be a blessing to us all." I mumble.

"What did you say, Matt?" Prisindia queries.

"Nothing, nothing" I say as I wave her away. "Just commenting on how big the Capitol is."

"Yes it certainly is!" she squeals. "I'll bet you've never seen anything like that back in District 12, now have you?"

"No ma'am." I mumble.

She prattles on, oblivious to my response.

"-and don't you just LOVE the Trumpling tower over there? It's the modern-est thing we've got! Only two weeks old! Can you imagine that? It's such a wonderful thing we're doing, taking young people out to see the world and admire the great works that so few of them get to see! In fact, I was thinking about suggesting to Seneca-he's the new gamemaker, you know- that they should have another one of those games when they took FOUR tributes from each district. Isn't that just thrilling? I think I'll go s-"

"SHUT UP" shouts Haymitch.

She looks at him, shocked. "I was only suggesting that-"

"I know what you were suggesting. Now shut up, and keep your mouth closed…Unless you want them to replace you with a younger Escort…"

"They would NEVER do that!" she glares.

Haymitch shrugs, then grins wickedly "Maybe, maybe not. But do you really want to find out?"

She sniffs at him, and flounces towards the elevator. I see Melissa already in the elevator, beckoning for Haymitch and I to get on.

Instead of ambling towards the elevator, Haymitch and I stay put. I want to ask him about something, and it will be much easier if I don't have to deal with Prisindia babbling.

"Haymitch, can I ask you a quick question?" I say quietly.

"Sure, but make it snappy. We've got to get goin' soon." He replies

"What are the chances of my plan succeeding? And did you ever face a similar situation back in your Games?"

He stares at me for a minute with a far-away look in his eyes. He shakes his head and snaps out of it and responds "Zero. Realistically, it was a death sentence for you to volunteer. I don't think our Victor will come from Twelve this year."

I sigh. "And the other question..?"

He runs his hand through his hair. "There was a girl I knew. I secretly called her May, even though her name was Maisille, I think. We teamed up, and she…eventually died when we broke up our alliance."

"Oh."

"Yep."

I rub my chin with my hand.

"So…they wouldn't allow two winners?"

"Nope. They won't in this case either. They'll take the drama, then probably kill you both off. Unless Snow has plans for either of you…but then again, with that Odair kid, you'll be lucky to survive the bloodbath. He's a hunk, even at 14. Bet he could get a pretty price for him if he won."

I shake my head.

"Then I'll have to kill him first."

Haymitch snorts. "Go right ahead, it's your funeral. They'll try their hardest to keep him safe, and make him the victor. Wouldn't be surprised if he gets some sort of superweapon to kill everyone else with."

I sigh.

"Look, Haymitch. I appreciate you trying to keep me rooted in reality but…can I have some false hope once in a while?"

"Sure, have all you want. I won't even tell you about missy over there." He says, waving towards the elevator.

"What about Prisindia?" I ask.

"Not her, your district partner. She was ogling Finnick when we watched the reapings."

"I don't believe it." I mutter.

"You don't have to. I'm just trying to save your hide from certain death, and maybe give the Capitol a run for their money. Wouldn't be surprised if she jumps ship on you."

"Stop it Haymitch, I don't want to hear it."

I shake my head and try to ignore him as I stride towards the elevator.

"Hey Matt, what took you?" Melissa asks.

I give her a brief hug.

"Just asked Haymitch about his Games. Our chances in this one. You know, things like that."

"Oh, okay" she says cheerfully.

In the back of my mind though, Haymitch's words are still bouncing around, beating out a hollow rhythm. _"I wouldn't be surprised if she jumps ship on you…"_

_"Would she really? I've known her for long enough by now that I would hope I could trust myself more than Haymitch..but-"_

I'm jolted out of my thoughts by the raw smell of alcohol as Haymitch steps into the elevator. He punches a button and we start to rise.

It only seems like a few seconds before we arrive at our floor with a slight *bump*, and with the walls being opaque it's impossible to see if we've actually stopped until the doors open.

As we disembark, Prisindia starts to say something, then pauses and looks at Haymitch.

"What?" he asks.

"I just do not want you screaming at me to "shut up" if I decide to say what's on my mind" she retorts.

"Hey, I was tired of your constant b-" he was rudely interrupted by a slap from Prisindia.

"No more of that" she finished, and beckoning to us said "Come along tributes, your rooms are the ones labeled District 12 Male and Female, so it's easy to find them. You can go up to the roof if you like or down to the lobby, but the one thing you're not allowed to do is **leave the building**. Am I understood?"

"Yes" I mutter.

I march into my room without another glance at her, and slam the door nice and hard just to tick her off a bit more. I flop down on the bed and try catch up on some well-needed rest.

Every time I close my eyes though, I keep hearing Haymitch and his surmizations about Melissa. Could she really do that? Why **would** she do that? If I couldn't trust the person I loved more than anyone else in the world, whom could I trust?

I tried dismissing it, but the thought grew in my mind. I'd have to ask her after training tomorrow. It just **couldn't **be true.

* * *

**Haymitch's PoV**

Crazy love-struck kids. I should have known they were doomed the minute they volunteered.

_"I had to do it" I remind myself "I had to drive that spike of doubt between them, or I'll lose them both for sure. I hate to break up their relationship, but it's going to be over in a few weeks, regardless. Now that I've made him uncertain, I need to get her to confirm my words."_

With that in mind, I strut down the hall to the room marked _District 12 Female _and knock.

"I'm not in there Haymitch, I'm right here!" I hear from behind me. I turn to see Melissa walking towards me.

"Hey, can I talk with you for a minute?" I ask.

"Sure, c'mon in." She says as she opens the door.

"This won't take too long, but you still might want to sit down."

She sits down, and her face pales. "Is it about Matt?" she whispers.

"Yes, generally speaking. I'll be blunt. Abandon him. It's the best thing you can do for him, sweetheart. You DO want him to win, don't you?"

She sits looking thoughtful for a minute. "Why would I do that? Wouldn't that break him?"

"Maybe, but you two are doomed as it is. I figure this way, there's still a shot a pulling one of you outta there as Victor."

"Hmm, I see." She murmurs.

I continue. "Couples can't exist in the arena. Only one comes out. And if you want it to be Matt, then the best possible thing is to abandon him completely. That way neither of you have extra emotional ties that could cause both of you to die."

"I'll…think about it." She says, rocking back and forth on the chair. "Is there anything else?"

"Nope, that's all I wanted to say, aside from maybe you should plan to join the Careers. They have a weakness for a pretty face-the boys, that is- and you might take them down from the inside." I say.

"Hm. I don't want to do that but…maybe it's for the best. I should have waited out of the arena to give him hope…now I've doomed him for sure." She cries.

I swallow around the lump in my throat. "Sorry, sweetheart. The Games are terrible, terrible things."

I walk out and close the door, cutting off the sounds of her quiet sobbing.

"HAYMITCH DARLING!"

Oh god, please no.


	6. Chapter 6: Would you believe?

**Another quick update, to make up for leaving it to choke for several months.**

**Chapter 6: Would you believe…?**

"HAYMITCH DARLING!" shouted Prisindia. "I've missed you!"

I hide a grimace. Definitely NOT the person I wanted to run into after being the opposite of Cupid.

"C'mere honeysugarpie" she cooed, wrapping her arms around me.

"Buzz off, Prisindia!" I snarl.

"C'mon Haymitch deary. You're not nearly as fun sober" she pouts.

"Sure, whatever" I say, shaking her off roughly. Maybe a bit too roughly, but hey, cut me some slack, I've been going for a good two hours without a lot of alcohol in my system. I'm severely hung over.

I stomp off down the hallway, managing to track the bits of remaining mud off my boots and onto the blood-red carpet with a gold-leaf swirl pattern running through the middle. Hrmph. I liked my simpler rugs back in my house.

I spent the rest of the night trying to drink myself silly, so I wouldn't have to focus on what I had been doing and what I still had yet to do. Ruining those kids' feelings toward one another was callous, some might even say sadistic. But it was something that had to be done if I wanted to get one of them out alive. Keeping up the façade of a loving relationship while destroying any real feelings would not only pull in sponsers, but it would also increase the chances that one or the other would manage to possibly make it to the final eight.

Around my fifth bottle of raw alcohol, I could barely keep standing, let alone manage to walk back to my room. The bartender was used to it by now though, and he rolled his eyes and sent one of the waiters to escort me back to my room. I remember stumbling in, hearing the door slam behind me, then pitching face-first down on the bed and everything going completely dark.

* * *

I sighed. We were halfway through the first day of training and already things weren't looking too good.

I had managed to pick a fight with the District 5 boy over a sword on the weapons rack, and then we both got put on the sidelines to "cool down" for a quarter-hour or so, only to rejoin the trainers to find that someone else had taken the sword-fighting station ALONG with the sword I had been practicing with.

I glance up at the boy from District 11, who was at the archery station with me. He was actually pretty good, managing to out-do me and everyone else who tried shooting. He was a dark, brooding fellow with a strong jaw and a short, jagged scar on his left cheek. The only one who came close was his twin sister. I realized with horror that neither of their family would be leaving alive if everything I hoped for transpired. The thought made me break out in a sweat, with beads of it running down my face and leaving little tracks in the dirt that accumulated there during the camouflage station.

Fortunately, the District 11 boy didn't notice that I was hardly even close to breathing heavily or any of the other signs of a physical workout; that my reaction was from inner turmoil.

Stepping away from the archery station, I glance around and see the District 7 boy working at the knots training station. I briefly consider going over there, but decide against it, and then look around the training center for Melissa. I spot her over next to some chairs, leaning on her hand against the wall, talking to Finnick and some other Careers. I decide not to go over and talk.

_"No sense making things harder on her than they already are." _I mull.

"Hey, kid, come over here!" someone shouts at me from across the room.

Oh great, what did this guy want?

I walk purposefully over to the man and stare down at him.

"Yes?" I smirk

"I-I…I have this message for you from Haymitch. Here!" he says, shoving it at me and quickly walking away, throwing a quick glance over his right shoulder as he distances himself from me.

"Wonder what this could be." I mutter out loud.

"Bet it's something inane" I predict.

I rip open the envelope and unfold the cream-colored paper.

As I read, my brow gets more furrowed and my fingers tighten into fists until I've practically ripped the note in half. This can't be right. IT CAN'T BE.

_See, sonnyboy? She's already avoiding you and cuddling up to the Careers. Is what I said before finally getting through to you? She doesn't care anymore; she already gave up on you for Finnick. Think about who should get out alive. Would you believe it now? Should it really be someone that abandons you for others as soon as she can?_

_Signed: Haymitch_

I rip the note into tiny pieces and violently throw them into the blued metal trash can placed in the corner.

This can't be happening. But it is. I stalk off the training room floor, heading for the elevator to the District 12 floor. Haymitch and I are going to be having a LONG talk about this.

* * *

I can hardly breath, talking to these Careers like this. But Haymitch did say to buddy up with them, so I'm giving it my best shot. Well, I was until I saw Matt stomp off after receiving and reading some note.  
I think back to what Haymitch also told me, and wonder if maybe my allies in these games SHOULD be the Careers. They're strong, powerful, and intimidating. Ditching and running seems like a good strategy IF I wanted to have a chance at winning. Which I don't really want…do I? I don't even know anymore

"…And that's how I managed to win the competition to get into these games." finishes Finnick.

"Finnick.." I start

"Finn. Just call me Finn."

I blush. "Alright, Finn, I have to go now. Mentor stuff ya know."

I wink at him, and I think I catch him winking back before I turn and head towards the elevator.

I punch the button for our floor, but the elevator is slow in arriving, so I busy myself by looking at an abstract piece of art painted in neon colors; mainly pink and green. It's disgusting, but I have to do something while I wait, don't I?

The elevator finally arrives and I hop in, riding it to the District 12 floor. What I hear upon exiting shocks me enough that I have to catch myself against the wall before I slump to the floor. Matt and Haymitch are arguing over…**me.**


	7. Chapter 7: What if it was true?

**Chapter 7: What if…it was true?**

I was peacefully drinking myself into a black oblivion when I was rudely interrupted by Matt bursting in my door. Well, bursting is a nice way to put it. He more or less knocked it off the gold-plated hinges.

"Whoa, Matthew. Just hold on a cottonpicking minute. What's your problem?"

"You know what the problem is, and I bet you a truckload of alcohol that you have a hand in it as well. Melissa is growing distant and lurking around the slimy Careers!" he shouted in my face.

Sheesh, this kid was almost out of control. He was red in the face and even though I was pretty tall, he was shouting down at me.

"I don't know what you're doing or why you're doing it, but wrecking something like this is a really low blow," he raged.

"Kid, listen. You want to win? No? That's what I thought. Melissa wanted you to win, but if both of you are going to be martyrs then there's precious little point in even training you. This is a necessary and vital part of the strategy for the games. I'll present you two as a couple tragically teetering over a permanent breakup and see if I can convince enough sponsers that one of you is worth keeping alive and maybe having an opportunity to with this damn thing! Your plans are mirror images: You both fight to keep the other one alive, and end up dying yourself. It's MY job as a mentor to stop your childish behavior and try to keep you alive as darn long as possible. I AM THE ONLY LIVING DISTRICT 12 VICTOR, SO YOU BETTER GET YOUR DAMN MIND STRAIGHTENED OUT! You. Cannot. Hope. To. 'win'. Don't you see? You need to lose the attachment if you actually care for one another."

I glanced at his face. Good, he seemed calmer now.

_"Scratch that" _I thought to myself as he picked me up by my shirtfront.

"Listen here, MENTOR. Pretending is one thing, but wrecking a relationship like this borders on being criminal and sadistic. Can you see THAT?" he sneered.

"I don't bloody well care what you say, I think it's a downright rotten scumbag thing to do, and I hope that someday you get repayed for it. I'd die now just to spite you!"

I snort.

"Kid, that's not worth it. I've seen over two dozen kids die in that arena that I tried to mentor. Adding you to the list is hardly worth mentioning. I'm doing what I think is best for both your chances. Melissa simply won't-"

"**I. Don't. Care,"** he says darkly, shaking me.

"She's someone special, and it's rotten of you and her to try and wreck it to try and keep me alive. And another thing, you think that just because-"

"STOP IT!"

I glance over to the door. Prisindia is standing there, with Melissa peering over her shoulder. Matt lowers me to the floor, and I smooth my shirt before snarkily asking

"Oh, really now?"

He makes a face at me, but I continue.

"Don't mind me and the boy, Prisi. He and I just had a disagreement about strategy is all."

"…right," she says warily.

"Melissa, you should get ready for supper, it will be ready shortly," Prisindia says to Melissa.

Melissa nods and walks quickly down the hallway to her room and closes the door.

"Anything else?" she asks, with a sharp edge to her voice.

"No ma'am," Matt and I reply.

She puts back on her smile. "Good then. As I said, supper will be ready momentarily."

Prisindia turned and waltzed down the hallway towards her room.

I turn back to Matt.

"So get this, because I'm not going to say it again: I am not going to let you two throw away your lives for nothing, understand?!"

"Isn't it mine to take and give as I please?" he scowls.

In response, I hit him. Hard. Hard enough that he falls backwards to the floor. Matt propped himself up on his elbows and scowls again.

"No, it isn't. You've got to play their gam-"

I'm stopped suddenly when he bounds up from the floor and decks ME with a punch to the chin.

"Excuse me, MENTOR, but no I do not. I joined them on my own accord, remember?" he smirks.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I heard something about supper."

He turns and walks out the busted doorframe, pausing at the entrance.

"You know, you could be one of them. You're certainly heartless enough for-"

He only gets that far because I throw a vase at him which shatters against the doorframe. He ducked and walked away. Great. My best pair of tributes in years, and they both have a death wish.

_"Supper is going to be awwwkward," I think to myself, looking in the mirror at my stubbly chin and darkening bruise left from when Matt hit me._

"Ouch," I say drolly.

* * *

Supper was a quiet affair, with nobody trying to talk except Prisindia. Melissa picked at her food and pushed it around her plate, while Matt didn't even try to have a pretense of consumption.

"You REALLY must eat something, you two," scolds Prisindia.

They both mumble a response about not being hungry. Both their heads are bowed: one blonde, one dark haired. It's a funny feeling a man gets; when he sees two mere children so sober and morose. Most tributes were terrified at this point, not sitting there silent as if someone they cared for died.

_"But then again, it's going to actually be that inside of a month. One or both of them are going to be dead," I think to myself._

I lower my head as well. Who knew beef stromboli looked like cooked blood? I do now, I guess. Eugh. Bad thought for at the dinner table. I try to keep my liquor from making a reappearance by attempting to listen to Prisindia's babbling.

"…and so that's how the first time I went to the new shopping megastore, I wound up walking all the way home with a broken heel on my expensive turquoise and sequined shoes!" she chatters.

"Yes yes, very interesting Prisi-doll. Any other stories you'd like to share?" I ask drolly.

"Well, now that you mention it, there was this time when I actually saw the President! In person! Well, I was in a crowd and it was during a parade, but I was a lot closer than my friends had ever been! Oh, they were so jealous, I bet they couldn't even begin to…" she drones on.

Matt stands up and pushes his chair in. "I'm heading to the library," he announces.

He walks out the door, leaving Prisindia retelling her story of how she managed to ALMOST get an audience with the President's wife.

Melissa sighs and pushes her plate away. "I'm sure your story is very interesting, Prisindia, but I don't feel like eating any more, and I think I'll go visit the library too. Excuse me."

She too walks out the door. Leaving me, the scapegoat, stuck listening to the stories of the almost-comedic bore, Prisindia.

"…and don't get me started about the times I went to a big sale and discovered that my friends had been there first! I was so upset that I could barely…"

This was going to be a LONG evening.

* * *

**Library: Matt's PoV**

After escaping the ear-murdering Prisindia, I settled down in one of the red plush chairs in the library. I opened a book that was sitting on the lamp table next to it, but I couldn't concentrate at all with Haymitch's words incessantly ricocheting around my brain.

_"She doesn't care anymore; she already gave up on you…."_

I muse over the words. Could it be true? At this point, it's hard to know what to believe and what to discount as fiction.

But…could it be? I HAD seen her withdrawing and getting chummy with the Careers. What if…no. I refuse to think about it.

I'm interrupted in my thoughts by Melissa walking in the door. I raise my hand from the arm of the chair in a half-wave.

"Hey," I say in a monotone.

"Hi…" she sighs, and collapses in one of the other chairs.

I sigh too. No sense in putting this off anymore. It will just eat me up from the inside.

"Melissa."

She stirs. "What, Matt?"

"Be straight with me. Honestly, have you started running from me? Have you given up on me? I thought you cared, I thought you LOVED!" I say angrily.

She looks hurt. I regret saying it the moment I'm finished speaking. Good god, I wish I hadn't opened my mouth.

"…yes Matthew. I gave up on you. I love you as a friend, it's true, but I decided that it's better this way. I'm sorry," she whispers, with tears running down her cheeks.

It's like someone hit me in the chest with a sledgehammer. Haymitch was right. **_Haymitch was right…_**

I don't remember getting up from my chair and hurling the book at the window. I don't remember smashing my fist into the solid oak bookcase. I don't remember bashing my head on the doorframe. I don't even remember the peacekeepers dragging me to my room. The grief and pain inside caused everything outside to blur and go black.

I lie in a dark haze on my bed. A single solitary tear rolls down my cheek to leave a spot on the bedspread.

_"If I could take it all back to three years ago, I wish I had died then. I wish…I don't even know anymore."_

My thoughts ran together in a jumbled mess of shattered emotions. I looked over at the window. It was raining outside.

_"I wish I could trade places with a drop of water. I could not have to suffer this pain, this agony. I could fall in the gentle rain, and eventually join the clouds again…"_

That's my last thought before I slip away into blackness.

* * *

**Melissa's PoV**

I cry. The tears keep flowing, and I do nothing to try stay their course. I watched the person I once loved be broken by grief. I come to a decision. I can't do this anymore.

I stand up, wipe the tears away, and try to steady myself, swaying as I attempt to keep from toppling over. Staggering out of the library, I make my way down the hall to the dining room. Haymitch is still sitting there, drinking himself blind while Prisindia prattles on, oblivious to the fact that he stopped paying attention long ago.

I walk up behind him and shakily tap him on the shoulder.

"Haymitch," I croak out. "I can't do this anymore."

It's hard to tell through the tears, but I think Haymitch shakes his head at me. At the very least, he doesn't stop drinking down the alcohol.

I sigh.

"HAYMITCH!" I wail.

"What, sweetheart?" he drawls.

"I can't do this anymore. It's going to destroy him. This isn't what I wanted!" I cry

"Sorry sweetheart, but it's your strategy now, not mine," he slurs. He pauses and takes another swig from a large green bottle.

"Besides, I figured anger would be enough to get one of you out of there alive, and-"

His statement is cut off when I snatch his bottle and break it on the table in front of him.

"Sweetheart, why'd-" he begins, staring at me with bloodshot eyes.

"Because it matters to ME! ME!" I cry. I don't even bother trying to stop the tears at this point. I sniffle.

He sighs and pushes back his graying hair.

"Sweetheart, I was trying my best to get one or the other of you two out of the living hell of an arena they'll throw you into. How the hell was I supposed to do that when you were both ready to die for the other?" he shouts accusingly.

I sob. I can't talk to him anymore. I need to go find Matt.

* * *

I wake up back in my room. The Peacekeepers dragged me here and dropped me on the bed.

I roll over and end up falling onto the floor. At this point I don't even care. I push myself upwards until I'm half standing, with one knee still on the floor. I force myself to look up. When I do, I see a mirror atop the nightstand. For some reason, it reminds me of home. Of life. Maybe I can get through this.  
With this in mind, I grab the edge of the nightstand and push myself upright. I barely escape slamming my chin into the side of it when it tips over from the force. I catch my balance just in time to hear the tinkle of breaking glass. I look down to see the shattered mirror on the floor.

_"I knew it was false hope" _I think.

I come to a quick decision. I might not have anything left to live any more for, but I can still cause as much pain to the Capitol as they did to me.

I wipe the sweat off my forehead, and walk out the door again. I walk with a slight spring in my step, just like someone who's found a new exciting goal to work towards. I hop in the elevator and hit the **Training Center** button.

I know just what I'm going to do. And oh boy, are they going to learn a lesson.


End file.
